


30 Day OTP Challenge

by totalizzyness



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 9,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totalizzyness/pseuds/totalizzyness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the title says. Updates every day. Nothing is a full oneshot, mainly little drabbles, will put warnings for mature content when it arises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1 - Holding Hands

You wouldn’t think to look at them that Dean and Castiel were in a relationship; sure they stood too close together, and stared at each other for way to long. And yes there were barely there touches, and innuendo, but Dean touched everyone and always made inappropriate jokes. They just looked like two guys. Two best friends. And they were, but they were so much more at the same time.

Dean is very reserved. He’ll blurt out his opinion on trivial matters such as what to have for dinner or who should offer themselves up as bait for the Wendigo they’re hunting — he’ll always suggest himself — but that’s it. His private life is exactly that. Private. His emotions are his own, his personal opinions are his own, his relationship is his own. Sometimes even Sam doubts Dean is actually in a relationship with Cas. 

But then at times like these, when they’re all tired from a hunt well done and there’s no immediate danger, they’ll collapse on the closest furniture. Sam sprawled over his bed, gangly limbs hanging over the sides. Dean and Castiel flop at either end of the Formica table, heads resting on their respective arms. Dean will reach for the bottle of whiskey to his right and pull it closer to him; Castiel will glance up and his eyes will lock with Dean’s. The staring begins. After several moments of neither men blinking, their free arms will extend towards the middle of the table, their hands meeting. Dean’s little finger will curl around Cas’ forefinger, his thumb stroking the back of the angel’s hand. Castiel’s hand will twist until he’s managed to wrestle his thumb around Dean’s, pulling his hand that little bit closer. Then Dean will pull his hand away completely before laying it back down on top of Cas’, like some strange game small children played. Cas would end it all, slipping his fingers between Dean’s, squeezing soft enough to not injure the human, but hard enough that Dean wouldn’t be able to pull away.

Not that he’d want to.


	2. Day 2 - Cuddling Somewhere

The hunt was supposed to be a simple sant-n-burn, they were supposed to be in and out and back before the ten o’clock news. But as always, with the Winchesters, things weren’t that simple. As it turned out, there were two ghosts, not one, something Dean had shouted at Sam for.

“You spent hours! Hours researching! How did a twin sister not fucking come out?!”

Sam ducked out of the way of a vase being launched at his head by the vengeful spirit; “I’m sorry! It seriously didn’t… It didn’t come up!”

Dean swung an iron bar through the ghost’s body, making it disappear; “go find the bones! I’ll distract angry bitch!”

Nodding, Sam grabbed his bag and ran out of the room, leaving Dean with a bag of salt, his shot-gun — which was running low on rounds, having used most on the other ghost — and an iron bar. Clutching the bar tightly, Dean edged around the room, keeping his guard up for the spirit. He grabbed the salt and began outlining the room, hoping to keep it contained when it turned up again.

But once again things didn’t go to plan, and Dean was launched across the room from the behind, crashing bodily in to a rickety chair. Groaning loudly, he picked himself up from the now-broken chair, reaching for his bar or gun but was thrown against another wall before he could wrap his fingers around anything. The wind was knocked out of him and he struggled getting to his feet.

Out of all of the ways he’d die, Dean always thought he’d go out in a blaze of glory, battling an army of demons or getting the shit smote out of him by an angry angel. He never thought he’d just get the crap kicked out of him by an angry ghost. Maybe five or so years ago, but not now.

“You will not harm him!”

Dean managed to crack his eyes open; Castiel was stood in the middle of the room, his fingers gripping the ghost’s throat tightly. The ghost opened it’s mouth, a strange noise echoing out.

“You’ll leave this plane of existence. Now.”

The ghost began flickering, it’s eyes rolling back in to its head before bursting in to bright light; Dean shielded his eyes, only daring to look up when the room went dark again. He looked up just in time to see Cas fall to his knees in front of him. Dean collapsed in to the angel’s arms, groaning loudly.

“What are you doing here?”

“Saving your life.”

Dean managed a weak chuckle; “thanks, angel.”

“What happened?”

“Sam didn’t know there were two ghosts… Totally unprepared… How come you could smite her?”

“I’m an angel, I can touch the intangible.”

“I’ll give you something to touch.”

Castiel chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Dean’s head, cradling him in his arms; “shut up, Dean.”

Dean snorted and slipped his arms around Cas’ waist, burying his face in to the angel’s chest. Cas smiled, stroking his thumb against Dean’s shoulder, clutching him tightly against his own body, not wanting to let go.


	3. Day 3 - Gaming/Watching a Movie

Dean wandered up and down the aisles of the small grocery store, occasionally grabbing things and throwing them in to his basket; chips, energy drinks, alcohol, some green for the little girl of a sister of his… As he neared the check-out he noticed a stand of DVDs on sale. It had all the usual suspects on it, chick flicks, film flops, straight-to-video films, and then there, right in the middle of the top shelf was a collection of Bill Murray films. Caddyshack, Groundhog Day, and best of all, Ghostbusters. And it was only a dollar! He quickly grabbed it and made his way over to the counter to pay.

When he got back to the motel he grabbed a wad of twenties and sent Sam on his way, to a bar or a library or whatever it was nerds did when their brothers needed the room. He repositioned the sofa so it was at a better angle towards the TV and threw all the bedsheets and pillows from his bed on to it, before finally calling Cas down. The angel appeared instantly.

“You’re not busy, are you?”

Cas smiled wryly; “I’m never too busy for you.”

“Don’t act like a bitch. Come on, sit, we’re watching movies tonight.”

“Just me and you?”

“Yup. sent Sammy out. Just you, me, and the delights of Bill Murray.”

Dean forced Castiel down on to the sofa, telling him to lose the coat, jacket, and shoes whilst he grabbed the food and drink. Eventually everything was sat up; the film was in, the food was surrounding them, nothing out of arm’s reach, Cas was slumped against Dean’s chest, a finger stroking up and down his denim-clad leg, and they were both swaddled in blankets. A perfect way to spend a cold November evening.


	4. Day 4 - On a Date

Sam looked up at Dean and snorted loudly, dropping his head back down to look at the table. Dean glared, folding his arms across his chest.

“Something funny?”

Sam chuckled; “nope, not at all.”

“Good.”

“It’s just-“

Dean huffed loudly; “just what?!”

Sam took a few moments to stop his chuckling before finally looking his brother in the eye; “you’re going on a date.”

“Nice deduction, genius!”

“You’re going on a date. With an angel!”

Dean rolled his eyes and wandered over to his bed, picking up his suit jacket; “yeah. Your problem is?”

“No problem.”

“Well stop bringing it up! I’ve already had two existential crisises. Crisises? Crises? Crisoos?”

“Crises, and I’m not trying to psych you out, I promise. It’s just funny! Cas turns up and tells you to scrub up nice… How is this not funny to you?”

“Because I’m the one who has to look after the grumpy angel after his feelings get hurt! Have you ever tried to comfort a sad angel?!”

Sam shrugged, looking back down at the table; “no.”

“It’s like squeezing blood from a stone! No matter how many blow jobs I offer!”

The younger Winchester grimaced; “really, really didn’t need to know that.”

“Deal with it, bitch. Anyway, do I look all right? Cas didn’t say where we were going.”

“You look fine.”

Dean nodded and looked up at the ceiling, forcing his hands in to his pockets; “I’m ready, Cas!”

A second later, Cas appeared in front of them, his usually rumpled suit all straight and smart. Dean grinned and slipped his arms around his angel’s waist, pulling their bodies flush together.

“Lookin’ good, Cas.”

“You look nice too, Dean. Are you ready to go?”

“Sure am! Don’t wait up, Sammy!”

Before Sam could respond, Dean and Castiel were gone. They reappeared on a cliff overlooking the town they were in; it was very clichéd rom-com, but Dean didn’t say a word. A few feet away from where they were stood was a blanket with different foods lay out; pie, burgers, pizza, beer, just about Dean’s dream buffet. He turned back to look at Cas and grinned, resting their foreheads together.

“You’re awesome, Cas. Where did you even get the idea?”

A small hint of blush crept up the angel’s cheeks; “Sam showed me several films which stressed the importance of surprise romantic outings. Picnics and star-gazing were the most popular choices.”

“Well, I’m starved.”

Castiel smiled as Dean went over and slumped down on the blanket, taking in all the food in front of him; “the food should still be hot, and I got your favourites from around the country.”

“You spoil me.”

“You deserve to be spoiled.”

Dean patted an empty space of blanket next to him; “pull up some blanket, dude. Rule one of soppy romantic dates is to be as close to your date as physically, humanly possible. That would mean you sitting on my knee or something, but I’m eating… You gonna try this?”

Castiel sat down behind Dean, his legs either side of the hunter, pulling him to lean back against his chest. He didn’t each much, only little bites that Dean forced in to his mouth, choosing instead to rest his chin on Dean’s shoulder, occasionally pressing soft kisses to his temple. When the night sky got darker, Castiel waved his hand mystically; little candles in glass jars which Dean hadn’t noticed lit up, giving them plenty of light and increasing the romantic atmosphere tenfold. Dean grinned and looked back to his left at his lover.

“Just how many films did you watch?”

Cas smiled sheepishly; “I had the weekend off.”

“Sheesh. Did you see the one with Zac Effron? I hate to admit but I liked that one.”

“The one where they’re in high school? Singing?”

“God no! The one where he de-ages and has to win back his wife.”

Cas smiled; “yes, I watched that one.”

“Cool… Don’t tell Sammy I said I liked it.”

“I won’t.”

Dean grinned and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his angel’s nose.


	5. Day 5 - Kissing

Castiel’s favourite kisses were the ones he wasn’t expecting. They were extra special because Castiel never didn’t see things coming, but Dean had the ability to surprise him. With kisses.

Castiel would be walking with furious precision on what he needed to do — whether it was retrieving items for a ritual, or getting a book — and out of nowhere Dean would slip an arm around his waist and pull him flush against his chest, a cocky grin playing on his lips. Cas would loose all focus and smile at his lover, his arms instinctively wrapping around him as Dean leant forward.

Sometimes it would be a gentle brush of the lips, barely touching at all; sometimes it would be a chaste little peck and Dean would duck away afterwards; but sometimes — whenever there was a wall present — the angel would be shoved up against the wall and kissed to within an inch of his life.

One day, Castiel decided to return the favour. He made sure he was invisible, and that Dean was alone. Sam had gone out to the library to do some research, leaving Dean to check the arsenal, cleaning and reloading the guns. He watched his lover and waited until he had his hands free. Putting the shotgun down beside him, Dean yawned and stretched and shuffled over to the fridge. Before he could open it, Cas appeared behind him„ roughly grabbing him, spinning him round and shoving him against the fridge. Dean’s groan of surprise was muffled against Cas’ lips as the angel assaulted his mouth with his own. A few seconds later, Dean got over the shock and melted in to Cas’ grip, slipping his arms around his waist.

The silent motel room filled with the quiet sounds of Dean and Cas’ moans and the wet sounds of their lips smacking and moving together. Dean’s hands bunched in the back of Cas’ trench-coat, holding on to him like a life-line.

When they got breathless, the two men pulled away, their foreheads resting together as they panted heavily. Dean smirked, stroking his hands up and down Cas’ back.

“What was that for?”

Castiel smirked and shrugged; “because.”

The hunter laughed and pulled his angel to his chest, pressing a quick kiss to his hair-line.


	6. Day 6 - Wearing Each Others' Clothes

Dean chuckled as Castiel held his arms out by his sides, his fingertips barely poking out of the sleeves of Dean’s leather jacket. Cas looked up at the hunter, a kicked-puppy look on his face; Dean tried to stifle his laughs as best he could.

“Sorry, babe. I thought it might make you look badass, but you just look like a guy trying to wear his dad’s clothes.”

Castiel glared; “thank you for that analogy, Dean. It makes me feel better about our relationship.”

“Hey! I’m not saying I am your dad! Just… Y’know…”

The angel continued to pout, folding his arms across his chest, the leather creaking as he moved. Dean let out a loud sigh, mirroring Cas’ actions.

“Oh come on! Don’t be like that!”

“This was your idea, Dean. I don’t appreciate you laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at the whole… Fiasco.”

Castiel harumphed and glared harder. Dean’s shoulders slumped.

“How can I make you feel less self conscious?”

“Put on my coat.”

“That ratty thing?!”

Castiel’s glare somehow became ever more intense; Dean let out a loud sigh and grabbed the coat from where it lay strewn across his motel bed.

“I hope you realise that I fucking love you!”

Cas’ lips quirked as he watched the hunter shove one arm through a sleeve, drape the coat over his shoulders and roughly shove his other arm in to the remaining sleeve. Though quite big on Castiel, the trench-coat was surprisingly small on Dean, the sleeves ending midway up his wrists. The angel’s lips twisted upwards as Dean held his arms out, a look of contempt on his face.

“There! I look like a fucking idiot! Happy?!”

“Very.”


	7. Day 7 - In Costume/Roleplaying

Castiel actually had to walk back in to the room to check what he was seeing was real. He didn’t understand why there was a cowboy in the bedroom he was sharing with Dean, and why was the cowboy pulling random poses? He was too confused to make even the sound to get the attention of this strange person, instead watching him pick up a revolver and twirl it on his finger. It dawned on him that it was Dean when he began talking.

“I know what you’re thinking. Did he fire six shots or only five?”

A small grin slowly spread across the angel’s face, remembering Sam’s comment about Dean having a fetish.

“Well to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself.”

Castiel folded his arms over his chest and leant against the doorframe, not making a sound. Dean continued, unperturbed.

“But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you’ve got to ask yourself one question.”

Dean raised the gun, pointing it at the standing mirror in the corner, cocking his head to one side.

“Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?”

Castiel chuckled silently; “I’m so very lucky.”

Dean spun round, gasping loudly and pulling the trigger without thought. Castiel was hit but was obviously done no harm, instead he just continued to grin at Dean. The hunter, however, threw the gun on to the bed and tried to calm his breathing.

“What the fuck is up with you, man?! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“I’m fine, Dean. What were you quoting?”

“Huh?”

“You were quoting something, what’s it from?”

Dean took of his hat and scratched the back of his head nervously; “Dirty Harry. It’s a Clint Eastwood film…”

“Would you like to show it to me?”

A grin slowly spread across Dean’s face; “Hell yeah! But before I do, there’s rules.”

“Rules?”

“You can’t watch a cowboy film and not be dressed like a cowboy.”

Castiel grinned wickedly; “Sam’s right. You do have a fetish.”

A hint of red filled Dean’s cheeks; “maybe a bit of one.”

—

That was how Bobby and Sam found the couple, cuddled up on the sofa asleep, dressed in their cowboy finery, the credits to a western film rolling on the TV.


	8. Day 8 - Shopping

Dean practically skipped back to the dairy aisle where Castiel was with the cart, debating whether to buy 1% or 2% milk. The hunter grinned, gently placing two pies down in the bottom of the cart, suddenly noticing the pack of snickers bars he’d dropped in earlier was missing. He frowned up at his angel, who was still scrutinising the back of the milk cartons.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Where’s my chocolate?”

“Hmm?”

“My chocolate. It’s gone,” Dean glanced down at the cart; “but these pears are new.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dean. Which milk should we get?”

“4%. Seriously, Cas, where’s my chocolate?”

“I’ll get 1%, and probably in the confectionery aisle.”

“What’s it doing there?!”

Castiel rolled his eyes and placed the milk in to the cart, pushing it up the rest of his aisle; Dean growled quietly and marched back off to the confectionery aisle. He grabbed two packs of Snickers, just to spite the angel and stomped to where Castiel was now analysing salt content on the frozen meals Bobby had requested. Dean roughly dropped the chocolate in to the basket and folded his arms, glaring at his lover.

“Just get him the macaroni.”

“But Dean, this has 40% of your recommended daily sodium intake!”

Dean huffed loudly and snatched the meal from Cas, tossing it in the cart; “Bobby doesn’t care.”

“He should care, this is his health!”

“The man drinks like, a bottle of rotgut every day, he really doesn’t care about a little salt! Now come on, Sam says we need to get some cleaning-where my pie?”

Castiel looked up at Dean as if he’d spoken another lanugage; “what?”

“I got two pies. There’s now one. Where. Is. My pie?”

“Um-“

“-Have you been swapping my food?! With… Fucking pears, and melons, and what the fuck is this?!”

“It’s a pomegranate.”

“What the Hell is a pomegranate?!”

Castiel sighed, folding his arms over his chest; “with the exception of Sam on occasion, you all eat so unhealthily! Alcohol, chocolate, pie… You’re killing your body! It wouldn’t hurt to cut down on the junk food and swap it with fresh fruit and veg.”

“I don’t want to swap my chocolate for a freakin’ bag of carrots! Cas, I’m a hunter. I guarantee if I die of anything, it won’t be scurvy!”

“But Dean-“

“-No! Get me back my pie!”


	9. Day 9 - Hanging out with friends

Dean instantly regretted introducing his angel boyfriend to the friends he’d made; Sam was thoroughly entertained. Charlie and Garth cornered Cas almost instantly and bombarded him with questions.

“Do you have a WoW account?”

“What’s heaven like?”

“I can make you an account! What do you want your username to be?”

“Do you have wings?”

“Do you like Harry Potter?”

“How did you get Dean to…?”

“Oh my God — sorry — yes! How did you get Dean to agree to the whole gay thing?”

“Did he put up a fight?”

“Did he punch you?”

“Does he deny he’s gay?”

“Are you just a special case?”

“How does he introduce you?”

“I knew he was too good at seducing guys. Did he tell you?”

Castiel finally put his hand up to cease the questions, staring at the two humans confoundedly; “I don’t know what ‘WoW’ is, so no.   
“Heaven is very subjective, but it’s vast.   
“I do not want an account on this ‘WoW’, do not trouble yourself.   
“Yes, of course I have wings, but they cannot be perceived on this plane.   
“I have watched the Harry Potter films and I did enjoy them, not as much as Sam, though.   
“I’m not sure what you’re implying with Dean.   
“And I didn’t get him to agree to any gay thing, he volunteered towards any homosexual activity between the two of us.  
“No he didn’t put up a fight; by the time our relationship transitioned from friendship to lovers he’d already fought his inner turmoil.  
“He didn’t punch me, no.  
“He does deny he’s gay. Vehemently.  
“Yes, I am just a special case. Apparently.  
“He introduces me as ‘Cas’, how else would he?  
“Dean’s good at seducing people of all genders, what is this specific thing he should tell me?”

Charlie and Garth paused, taking in all of the information the angel submitted before rambling again, asking even more questions which gradually got more and more explicit. Dean scowled at the trio, not sure if he should break it up or not. Sam wasn’t helping, giggling behind his beer, occasionally sending his brother cheeky grins.

“So who tops out of you two?”

Dean dived towards his lover and friends; “okay, that’s enough! I’m putting an end to this Q-and-A!”

Charlie groaned as Dean snaked his arm around Cas’ waist and began pulling him away. Castiel frowned up at Dean, Dean just shook his head and pointed towards Sam.

“I think Cas tops,” Garth muttered. Charlie hummed.

“Obviously.”


	10. Day 10 - With Silly Hats

A series of strange events led the boys to a possible hunt in a novelty hat shop. Sam was off looking for things to help their hunt whilst the angel and his hunter kept guard in the front of the shop.   
Dean chuckled as he straightened out the panda hat perched atop Castiel’s head; Cas shot Dean a goofy smile in return and held up the tiger hat. The hunter laughed and grabbed it, pulling it on to his own own head.

“Fuck yeah, man! Tigers!”

Cas chuckled; “I thought you’d like it.”

“Eye of the tiger!”

Dean’s eyes suddenly widened and he pushed past the angel, grabbing another hat from the stand, knocking the panda hat from Cas’ head and replacing it.

“Fucking dinosaur, dude!”

“What type?”

“Um… T-Rex, I think… Yeah! There’s little arms!”

He took the little arms between his fingers, jiggling them up and down as if he was dancing with the dinosaur hat. Castiel laughed at Dean’s grin; it was rare for the hunter to be as happy as he was in that moment, and he decided to enjoy the beauty of Dean’s true smile.

“Should we get Sam a hat?”

“Sure, the giraffe or the moose?”

“Both.”

“Yeah… What about you? Sticking with the dinosaur?”

Castiel hummed an unsure tone, looking around; “I don’t think so… I quite like that bee hat.”

“Jeez, Cas. You and bees.”

“I like the bees!”

“Yeah, I know you like the bees… But… Dinosaurs are way cooler!”

“Not to me.”

Dean huffed out a sigh; “Cas. Bees generally considered lame! Dinosaurs all the way!”

“Did you know that without bees the world as we know it would come to an end within four years?”

“Did you know T-rexs can’t see you if you stand still?”

“Yes, I was there.”

The hunter shrugged in defeat; “fine. Show off. Get the stupid bee hat.”

“I don’t know why you’re so chagrined, Dean. It’s not as if you’re paying for them — and I certainly do not condone stealing.”

“I haven’t paid for a single thing my entire life. And I would buy these, but the dude’s dead.”

They were suddenly distracted by the sound of heavy footsteps stomping towards them. Sam’s head suddenly popped around the corner, his face falling from worried confusion to annoyed embarrassment.

“Guys, seriously?”

Dean grinned and snatched two hats from the stand; “Sammy! Moose or giraffe?!”

Rolling his eyes, Sam stomped back off up the corridor, searching for more clues for their hunt whilst Castiel and Dean played with the hats.


	11. Day 11 - Wearing Pyjamas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get any more comments like this; I'm British. I spell it P-Y-J, not P-A-J... Okay? Okay.

Dean groaned as Castiel padded out of the bathroom, flattening his black Batman t-shirt over his abdomen. Cas ignored his lover in favour of switching off all the lamps in the room and making sure his clothes were neatly folded on the chair before pulling back the sheets of the bed. Dean folded his arms over his chest, glaring at Cas.

“Seriously, Cas?”

Castiel shrugged innocently; “do you have a problem, Dean?”

“You’re not seven, Cas. You don’t need to wear pyjamas to bed!”

“I thought you liked Batman.”

“Not fucking Batman pyjamas, Cas! Seriously! Take them off!”

Castiel scowled; “no.”

“You’re a grown man!”

“I’m not a man, Dean.”

“You’re telling me you billion year old angels fly around up there wearing freakin’ pyjamas?!”

Cas looked down at his legs, picking idly at the scratchy motel blanket covering them; “obviously not, but…”

“But what? Are you afraid to show me your body?”

“You know I’m not.”

“So why the clothes, Cas? Get naked like the rest of us! If you want to wear something, your boxers are more than enough, just… Take off the fucking pyjamas. Please?”

The angel sighed, his hand creeping closer to Dean’s until their fingers twined together; “why does my wearing clothes to bed bother you?”

“No, we’re not going there.”

“What are you not telling me?”

“A lot of things. C’mon Cas, off with the clothes! Mush!”

“Not until you give me a reason.”

“I’ll give you a reason when you lose the Batman pyjamas.”

“Dean-“

“-Cas-“

“-Don’t make me force you, Dean!”

Dean let out a loud sigh; “please, Cas.”

“I’m counting to three-“

“-Fine! I like feeling your skin! Okay?! I like how warm it is, and how it feels against mine. Will you… Get undressed now?”

Castiel smiled, leaning over to press a chaste kiss against Dean’s lips; “as you wish.”

He pulled the shirt over his head first, smirking at the way the hunter’s eyes raked over his body. Once he’d successfully shucked the bottoms off, Dean grabbed the ensemble and threw it to the other side of the room.

“First thing I’m doing in the morning is burning those damn pyjamas.”

Castiel just chuckled in response and snuggled up to his human, wrapping his arm around his waist and letting out a content sigh.


	12. Day 12 - Making Out

Sam wanted to look away. He couldn’t, but he wanted to. He really wanted to. Part of him was disturbingly fascinated by the scene playing out in front of him. He understood that Castiel was an angel of the Lord; he didn’t need to sleep, he didn’t need to eat, it stood to reason he wouldn’t need to breathe either. But Dean. Dean was a human! Well, the last time Same checked his brother was a human. Dean needs to breathe! Sam’s kissed people before, he knows there’s only so much oxygen you can get from breathing through your nose, and eventually you have to pull away and actually fucking breathe. Dean, however, didn’t seem to have this problem. He and Cas were going at it, hands fisting in each other’s clothes, tongues down one another’s throats, quiet little groans and grunts, and had been for at least ten minutes. Sam couldn’t remember ever making out with someone for that long without pulling away for breath, even when he was a teenager.

“Are you seriously going to sit there and watch us?” Dean asked. Sam shook himself back to reality, realising Dean was scowling at him, his arms still wrapped around his angel lover. Castiel was just regarding Sam with a look conveying his confusion as to why the kissing had stopped.

“Sorry, what?”

Dean rolled his eyes; “you’ve been sat there perving on us for about ten minutes.”

“Oh… Well… You haven’t pulled away for breath in ten minutes.”

“So why does that mean you can watch us?!”

“Um… Sorry. I’ll go get some food or something. I’ll assume you’re not hungry?”

“Bite me.”


	13. Day 13 - Eating Ice-Cream

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten ice-cream, he’s sure he was in single digits. He hadn’t really thought about having it again until Castiel pointed to a little girl and asked what she was eating. Grinning, the hunter dragged his angel up the street to the small little ice-cream shop nestled between a Starbucks and a KFC. It was very small, and family-owned; the decor was that of a 50’s style diner, complete with neon signs and a jukebox.

Dean dragged Castiel up to the counter, and pointed to the ice-cream flavours, concealed behind the glass.

“Pick something. Anything. I’d recommend chocolate — you can never go wrong with chocolate.”

The old man behind the counter smiled, adjusting his little red and white striped hat so it wasn’t crooked; “this your friend’s first ice-cream?”

Dean smirked; “that it is.”

“I could put something together extra special. I usually cook it up for the little’uns when their moms and pops are bein’ stingy with the number o’ flavours they can have. But seeing as your friend ain’t tried our amazin’ ice-cream, well, it’d be cruel of me not to.”

Grinning, Dean elbowed Castiel; “hear that? Something special.”

Cas quirked a small smile; “thank you.”

“Ain’t no bother. Anythin’ to keep the customers coming back. It’s hard to earn a livin’ with those damn chain stores.”

Dean leant on the counter, groaning; “tell me about it. We do a lot of travelling; we go through a nice little town, family-run businesses all over. Come back a couple of months later, there’s a Starbucks, McDonalds, bigass WalMart… Franchises, man. Ruin everything. Mcdonalds burgers aren’t even nice!”

The old man chuckled; “you’re preachin’ to the choir, young man. Nearly fifty years ago me and my Ethel started this shop. Worked ourselves hard to keep it goin’. I’m tellin’ you, not two months ago I got a call from some man at the head office of Subways — you know the sandwiches — offering me money to sell up so they can set up here. I told ‘em, no way! I told ‘em, I’ve been here fifty years, and this shop will be here for a long time after I’m gone. I’m not sellin’ to no one for nuffin!”

“That’s very honourable of you,” Castiel praised, eyes trained on the man’s hand as he scooped out various flavours of ice-cream in to a bowl.

“Well, it’d be a disgrace to my Ethel’s memory if I sold here. She loved it. Put her heart and soul in to it. No amount of money will get that back. We raised our children here, Hell, we helped raise our grandchildren here. This shop’s a part of us!”

“I’m sure she’s very proud of you.”

“I sure hope so. Anyway, here’s your ice-cream.”

The old man grabbed two little plastic spoons and stuck them in to the ice-cream before passing it over to Cas. Dean pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket.

“How much is-“

“-On the house, son. For listenin’ to an old man wittle on about his troubles.”

“Well, you aren’t going to stay in business very long if you offer up your ice-cream to any fool who’ll listen to you.”

“You pair are the first people to listen to me, it’s not a great loss. You go on and enjoy your ice-cream.”

Dean smiled; “thank you.”

“And don’t forget to tell all your friends where you got the best ice-cream you ever ate!”

“We won’t!”

Dean ushered Cas out of the shop, his lips twitching as he watched Cas’ reactions to the flavours he was trying.

“What a nice man,” the angel mused, picking at a lump of vanilla. Dean nodded, taking the other spoon and scraping off some chocolate.

“He’s going upstairs, right?”

“Of course. Here, try this one.”

Dean stuck his spoon in to the ball of pale blue ice-cream Castiel was pointing to, lifting some in to his mouth. He groaned cheerfully.

“Bubblegum! Jeez. I feel seven again!”

Castiel grinned; “ice-cream brings back fond memories?”

“Any memory including ice-cream is a fond memory, Cas. Here, try some pistachio.”

“This will be the only memory I have including ice-cream?”

Dean smiled around his spoon of strawberry; “is it fond?”

“Of course. All memories with you are fond ones.”

The hunter chuckled, shoving a spoonful of rum raisin in to Cas’ mouth; “shut up, you big girl.”

Castiel smiled, resting his forehead against Dean’s temple.


	14. Day 14 - At a Bar

Dean knew bars like the back of his hand. He knew what kind of people went to bars. There was the person who practically lived there, slumped over the bar like it was the only thing keeping him up, a glass of whiskey clutched in his hand. There was the working stiff who’d had a bad day, his tie flipped over his shoulder as he nursed a bottle of beer, looking close to tears. There were the rouch bikers who skulked about in the corner, hogging the pool table and leering at anyone who came too close. And worst of all, there were the lonely hags who prayed on whatever innocent soul was sat by himself for too long. Innocent souls like Castiel who’d been sat in a booth by himself whilst Dean tried to get served.

Dean growled as he watched the woman stroke one of her talons up and down Cas’ arm, staring dreamily in to his eyes. Castiel looked visably uncomfortable but was too polite to say anything.

“Hey, can you hurry up please?!” Dean snapped at the barmaid. The small woman looked like a deer in the headlights, scurrying away to get his drinks. Dean looked back over to Cas. The hag had shuffled up, nearly sat on his lap, an arm draped over his shoulder as her fingers played with his hair. Castiel looked like he was trying to edge away, but her other hand reached up a clutched at the lapel of his trench coat, yanking him closer.

“Here you are.”

Dean spun around and saw the small barmaid looking up at him. He threw a note in her direction, muttering “keep the change” as he stormed over to his boyfriend and the slut draping herself over him. Castiel looked up, a terrified look on his face when he saw how angry Dean looked.

“Dean!”

The woman looked up, smirking; “hey darlin’.”

Dean growled; “do you mind getting off him?”

“Of course I mind, I was thinking of taking him on a test drive.”

“That wasn’t a request.”

“Ooh, so forceful. Maybe afterwards we can try you out.”

Dean slammed the drinks on the table and grabbed the woman’s arm, dragging her out from behind the table; “go. Away.”

Realisation finally dawned on the woman; “sheesh, sorry. I didn’t know he was taken. Especially by stupid assholes.”

She snatched herself out of Dean’s grip and stomped off to go and chat up the exasperated office-guy. Dean sighed loudly and slumped down beside Cas, reaching out to pull their drinks closer. Castiel smiled sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I honestly don’t mean for women to throw themselves at me.”

Dean chuckled, slipping an arm around his lover’s waist; “it’s all right. It’s my fault for having such a gorgeous boyfriend.”

“But this happens at every bar we go to.”

“And I still don’t learn. I should get you a t-shirt saying ‘my boyfriend is killing you in his head at the bar’.”

Cas smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Dean’s temple; “or, you could just not leave me alone for more than five minutes.”

Dean grinned; “or that…”


	15. Day 15 - In a Different Clothing Style

“I don’t like this. In fact I hate this. Everything about this royally sucks balls!”

Castiel nodded, picking at a loose thread on his blue argyle sweater vest, hoping if he pulled hard enough it would unravel and he wouldn’t have to wear it; “this shirt your brother got is very scratchy. And I don’t particularly enjoy having this… Gel in my hair.”

Dean grunted and scuffed his new shiny loafers on the carpet; “this is why suburbia. Is Hell!”

“I wish to return to my old clothes.”

“Me too. But we’ve got this stupid case… And it’s not all bad. That shirt really shows off your arm muscles… And the vest brings out your eyes.”

The angel blushed; “I wish I could return your compliment, but your new clothes make you look… strange. And unlike you.”

“Polos and khakis don’t suit anyone, Cas. They automatically make the wearer look like a dick. That’s why corporations make their office whores wear them.”

“I can’t wait to get back to the motel.”

Dean grinned; “I promise as soon as Sam comes back, we’ll call the room and ruin these clothes!”

Cas chuckled and pulled himself from the horrible mustard yellow sofa wandering in to the hunter’s arms; Dean smiled, slipping a hand underneath the itchy sweater vest.

“By the way, your hair looks awesome like this. Just sayin’… Sam should be a hairdresser.”

“The gel is sticky, I don’t like it.”

Dean mused over his angel’s mussed quiff; it had taken a whole pot of gel to get it to stick but it was definitely worth it; “you look good, Cas. You actually suit this Banana Republic shit. There’s no way a guy with my stature can pull this off…”

Castiel frowned; “but I don’t like these clothes. I miss my coat.”

“So do I… It’s so baggy. It lets me do… Things… Without people seeing”

Dean’s hands travelled down to Cas’ backside, groping forefully. Castiel smirked.

“How long until Sam returns?” he sighed, playing with Dean’s collar, standing it up then folding it over, then repeating.

“No idea. Providing he talks to the Stepford Wife instead of fucking her, shouldn’t be too long…”

“I don’t understand why we have to stay here. Dressed like this.”

“Me neither… Let’s get a headstart on ruining these clothes…”

Dean suddenly pushed Castiel hard, slamming him against the wall before pushing his body against the angel’s, raking his nails up and down the vest, making sure they ‘accidentally’ snagged on the wool.


	16. Day 16 - During Their Morning Ritual

Dean was an early riser; it was ingrained in him from an early age. He didn’t need alarms to get him up, no matter what time he went to bed, he’d be awake at 5:30 sharp. Castiel, however, loved sleeping in. He protested his need for sleep for a long time, but after trying it once, it became one of his favourite activities.

The hunter stirred, cracking an eye open, wincing at the sunlight streaming in through the gap in the curtains. He yawned quietly, stretching his body out, hearing bones crack back in to place. Next to him, Castiel stirred, burrowing closer to Dean’s warm body, cocooning himself in the scratchy motel blankets. Dean smirked, wrapping his arms around the angel, pulling him closer. As well as being a long sleeper, Cas was also a deep sleeper; he moaned happily and curled up on Dean’s chest.

There was no current hunt, so Dean had no reason to get up and get ready, so was content to lie with his lover in his arms. He didn’t cuddle often, but he definitely preferred it when Cas wasn’t conscious for it, because the angel was a dick for poking fun at him. He could take a few hits to the ego, he was a man, but Cas seriously needed to learn not to point out embarrassing things in front of Sam. Little brother mockery was almost ten times worse than boyfriend mockery.

Closing his eyes, Dean rest his chin against the top of Castiel’s head; the dark hair ticking his neck. Cas’ steady breathing nearly lulled the hunter back to sleep. Nearly.

It didn’t take Dean long to get bored.

Sliding out from underneath Cas, he padded through to the bathroom, slouching over the sink to look in the mirror. The dark circles around his eyes weren’t too obvious, he’d been getting more sleep, but he still looked like crap. He ran the tap, splashing some cold water on his face to wake him up before grabbing his toothbrush.

He went though his normal morning routine — sans shower; brushing his teeth, getting dressed in to the previous day’s clothes, going to any diner which was open to get breakfast — black coffee and pancakes for him, coffee with milk and two sugars and waffles for Cas — and returned.

Castiel was curled up in the middle of the bed, covers wrapped tightly around his body, snoring lightly. Smiling softly, Dean set the breakfast on the table and went to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for Cas’ arm to shake him gently. The angel groaned quietly, curling in on himself even more. 

“Cas. I got breakfast,” Dean murmered, shaking him some more. Castiel groaned again.

“Go ‘way. ‘M ‘sleep.”

“Waffles. And I haven’t showered yet. I thought you’d like to join me.”

Cas poked his head out of the covers, cracking an eye open; “waffles?”

Dean laughed, pulling the angel in to his arms; “come on.”


	17. Day 17 - Spooning

Dean grumbled, tightening his grip around Cas’ waist, pulling him closer against his chest; “remember what I told you?”

The angel huffed out a sigh, trying his best to burrow in to Dean’s warmth, tugging the covers tighter around them; “if Sam asks, we’re conserving body heat.”

Dean nodded, tangling their legs together, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of his lover’s neck; “and…?”

“And we’re definitely not cuddling.”

“Or…?”

“Or spooning.”

“Good.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, squirming about to try and get comfortable, but Dean’s arm was digging in to him slightly; “I don’t understand why we need to lie, Dean. He knows of our relationship, surely he wouldn’t be surprised to find us like this.”

Dean ignored his boyfriend, instead squeezing his arms tighter around the angel, nuzzling the side of his neck with his nose. The couple genuinely were conserving body heat; it was late November and the heating wasn’t working, so the room was freezing. Luckily for Dean, Castiel was a walking-talking furnace, but the best way to keep warm was to curl up around the angel, making sure as much of them as possible were touching. Which to an outsider would look like spooning. And they weren’t spooning. Dean Winchester didn’t spoon. He had long-term monogamous relationships with an angel of the Lord in a male vessel, and he wasn’t afraid to call said angel his boyfriend or show him affection in front of people. But he did not spoon.

Except he totally did. All the time.


	18. Day 18 - Doing Something Together

Dean’s favourite activity he shared with Cas, was nothing. Nothing at all. Sure the sex was amazing, and the cuddles were nice, hunts were exhilerating, and watching TV was strangely infuriating — damn angel with no concept of anything. But doing nothing was the best. 

Most of the time they’d hop in to the Impala and drive out of the town, away from all the noise, and light pollution. To a secluded field or hill. If it was raining, they’d just sit in the car and listen to the rain drum on the roof, watching it splash on the windscreen. But if the weather allowed it they’d go and lie in the field, staring up at the sky.

Sometimes they’d just lie in silence, hands entwined between them. Sometimes Castiel would point out constellations, what they meant, how far away they were, when they were created, and on the odd depressing occasion, whether or not they still actually existed.

Sometimes they’d even play games; such as I spy. Castiel would usually win when his “thing” was something obscure like an unknown constellation or the Latin name of a plant nearby. Dean would huff out a loud breath and not talk for ten minutes.

After a while of doing nothing, Castiel would get bored and crawl up in to Dean’s personal space, snuggling up to him. Dean would smile, wrapping his arms around the angel. He’d call him something silly like ‘snickerdoodle’. Castiel would reply with ‘cuddle-butt’. Googleybear. Snuggle Bunny. Honeybunches. Love Bug.

Doing nothing with Cas kept Dean grounded and sane; reminding him that the world’s not actually full of bad things, and it’s not going to stop spinning if he takes a night off. Even if he was paranoid it would, Castiel would be able tp pause time, just to give them some well-earned time to do nothing.


	19. Day 19 - In Formal Wear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MATURE CONTENT

Castiel’s favourite cases were the ones where the brother’s had to impersonate FBI officers. They were his favourite because he loved seeing Dean in a suit. Dean in a suit just… Did things to him. He couldn’t explain it, but he needed to get Dean by himself whenever he wore his suit. His favourite was Dean’s navy suit; the way the slacks hugged his thighs, and the pale blue shirt would cling to his abdomen. 

He was always torn between ravaging Dean where he stood, or waiting until later. The suit-kink was definitely a thing, but the boys didn’t have money to waste on dry-cleaning, and Castiel didn’t want to ruin his lover’s suit because he was horny.

But it was getting worse.

By a stroke of luck, Castiel came across a decent sum of money. He’d been talked in to gambling at a bar and won; on the stagger back to the motel, Castiel and Dean passed a dry-cleaners. He had enough money to get Dean’s suit cleaned.

He couldn’t wait for the next day.

Dean and Sam had a witness to interrogate as FBI agents; Dean wore his navy suit. Castiel had to excuse himself to heaven for a few hours or else he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold off. He told his lover to call him once he was done, and waited…

The angel was sat by the shoreline of a small Sri Lanken village when his phone rang, “Dean” flashing up on the call ID. Not even bothering to answering it, he flew straight to the motel, landing mere inches from when Dean was standing. The hunter almost dropped his phone, stumbling backwards.

“Cas!”

Castiel registered Sam’s presence in the room, but didn’t look, instead he dragged his eyes up and down Dean’s body; “Sam. Could you please leave Dean and me alone for some time?”

Dean’s eyes widened, a smirk creeping across his face. Sam coughed awkwardly and muttered an affirmative, rushing out of the room. Cas continued to stare at his lover, eyes lingering on the way the fabric was stretched across his thighs.

“Cas?”

Castiel didn’t respond, deciding instead to push Dean towards his bed, pushing him back down upon it. Dean went with a grin, reaching out to touch the angel, pulling him on top of him by his tie. Cas growled quietly, pressing wet kisses to Dean’s neck whilst divesting him of his tie and popping the shirt buttons through their holes. Dean tried to push Cas’ trench coat from his shoulders, but kept getting pushed back down on to the bed; his angel was determined to do something to him.

“You all right, Cas?”

Cas bit down on the hunter’s collar bone, pulling the shirt open; “shut up.”

“Could I at least join in?”

“Sit back and just enjoy, Dean.”

Dean whimpered as Cas began sucking small bruises down his chest, nipping at the skin with his teeth and soothing the bites with flicks of his tongue. His belt was quickly undone and thwipped through the belt-loops, thrown to the floor before his fly was being undone. Castiel definitely had a goal, and it seemed to be located in Dean’s pants. He certainly wasn’t complaining.

He heard another buckle clank about, looking down to see Cas roughly undo his trousers, his tongue paying focused attention to Dean’s nipple. He groaned again, louder when he felt his angel’s hand reach in to his boxers, wrapping tightly around his length and giving him a few experimental tugs before freeing him from the confinements of his underwear. He quickly did the same to himself before covering the hunter’s body with his own. Dean let out another groan as Castiel ground up against him, their hips slotting together.

“Jeez, Cas… Love you!”

Cas smirked, crushing their lips together breifly; “I love you too, Dean. Especially in your suit.”

Dean choked out a laugh as Cas continued to rut up against him; “so that’s what this is… Is about…”

“I finally… Snapped…”

“I’m glad… Glad you di-fuck!”

Castiel moaned, his head falling forward on to Dean’s shoulder, his hips grinding down harder and faster. Dean’s hands bunched in the trench coat Cas was still wearing, holding on to him like a life-line; he could feel the extreme heat radiating from his angel — unsurprisingly as he was still wearing three layers.

“Fuck!”

Cas smirked, pressing a few kisses to the junction of Dean’s neck as his hand slowly travelled down his torso, nails digging in to the soft, burning hot skin. Dean keened when he felt the angel’s long fingers wrap around them both, squeezing gently, offering a new rhythm to their grinding.

His head fell back, digging in to the hard mattress beneath him, small grunts and moans falling from his mouth as Castiel’s rutting got more frantic and intense. Small whimpers could be heard from the angel, barely audible over the creak of the mattress springs and Dean’s noises.

“Oh shit! Cas!”

“Dean!”

Cas’ mouth messily covered Dean’s, their moans getting swallowed in a fiery kiss. Dean began scrabbling at the angel’s back as he got closer to finishing, his hips jerking up to find more friction. His mouth fell away as he groaned out “Cas” as he came; Castiel following close behind.

They panted heavily in to one another’s mouths; Dean could feel a bead of sweat journey down his cheek. He let out a quiet chuckle, jerking up to press a quick kiss to Cas’ lips.

“Fucking… Wow, Cas… I should wear a suit more often, huh?”

Cas smirked, wiping his hand clean on the bed sheet and rolling to his lover’s side; “only if you have enough for the dry-cleaning.”

“Hey, if that’s what I’m getting every time, it’s totally worth it!”


	20. Day 20 - Dancing

To say Dean wasn’t impressed was an understatement; he glared daggers at his overly amused little brother. Castiel had no opinion on the matter, not understanding what a night-club was.

“No!”

“Dean-“

“-No!”

Sam sighed dramatically; “it’s just one night. One case. We’ll be in and out, I swear! We’ll find them, gank them, on our way!”

“I’m not going to a night club! I’m not dancing to shitty music surrounded by freaks in stupid clothes grinding up against each other!”

“Who said you have to dance?!”

Dean scowled, folding his arms across his chest defensively; “just… Shut up.”

Sam laughed and grabbed some clothes from Dean’s duffel; “get changed, you don’t have a choice! Get Cas changed too if he’s coming,” before marching in to the bathroom. Castiel slid over to where Dean was throwing a silent tantrum, and a gently rest his hand on his shoulder.

“Dean?”

“I’m fine, Cas… So… You coming?”

“Would you prefer it if I did?”

“Um… Yeah…”

“Then I’ll come.”

And so an hour later, the Winchesters and Castiel were in a dark night-club, music thumping all around them, young men and women grinding up against each other on the dance-floor, drinking and having a good time. Unlike Dean, who was leant against the bar, bottle of beer clutched to his chest as he mentally cursed every single person in the room; except Cas. Sam had disappeared, saying he quickly needed the bathroom, and unless had serious bladder problems, had run off. Castiel was stood by his side, however, nervously watching the club patrons with wide eyes. One tipsy woman in what was supposed to be a dress but looked more like a belt accidentally stumbled in to Cas, giggling an apology, but making no move to get off him. Cas’ eyes were terrified as he tried to push her off him without actually touching her; Dean laughed and grabbed his angel’s arm, dragging him from the woman.

“Come on, Cas. Let’s go investigate.”

“I believe Sam has it under control.”

Dean stared at his lover confoundedly; “oh… So…”

“Actually Dean, I want to ask… Could you… Teach me to dance?”

“…You want to learn how to dance?”

“Yes. Please. Like them.”

“Cas, that’s not dancing! That’s… Humping. To music.”

“Dean? Please?”

Dean said and did nothing for a few moments, staring between Castiel and the dance-floor, his mouth opening and closing before he growled quietly, grabbing Cas’ wrist and dragging him on to the dance-floor.

“Breathe a word to Sam and I’ll trap you in a ring of holy-fire for a week!”

Castiel nodded, a shy smile playing at his lips as Dean lined them up, draping Cas’ arms over his shoulders and slipping his own around the angel’s waist. Cas quickly took a look around at what everyone else was doing and waited for Dean to move.

“…Dean…?”

“All right, all right… Just… Do what I do…”

Dean began moving jerkily, unable to find a decent rhythm, Castiel trying his best to move in sync. Around them people were grinding against other people, dancing happily without incident; Castiel quickly became irritated with Dean’s inability to dance. He quickly pulled the hunter’s arms over his shoulders and latched his hands on to his hips, moving in time with the music and his own hips. A violent blush crept up Dean’s neck and cheeks as he inadvertently began grinding up against his angel. Sure, he’d done it before, but they’d been naked and in the privacy of a motel room.

“It’s not so hard,” Cas breathed, his warm breath tickling Dean’s ear. The hunter scoffed and ground his hips up even harder against the angel.

“Think again.”


End file.
